


Of Light

by GraciousVictory



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, In a Platonic Way, Not a lot of action, Other, but not in a romantic way, i guess it's a comfort fic????, lots of talking, the only major character death is canon stuff but it will be talked about, this is a very platonic fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraciousVictory/pseuds/GraciousVictory
Summary: The Warrior of Light takes a few moments to think about her adventures and perhaps talk to a few of her allies about them.  This is mostly going to be a Lot of talking and character interactions with only small snippets of action, and it's also typically going to be the WoL and one friend chatting, but that format may change as the work progresses.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Reborn, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter represents a chunk of the game. A Part One will be all of the "base" part of the game. For instance! The first chapter is all of 2.0 whereas the second is going to be 2.1-2.5. The third will be 3.0, the fourth will be 3.1-3.5, etc.

Zolii of the Borlaaq sat on the edge of the crystal-choked ledge that had once been the central area of Camp Revenant’s Toll. The corrupted crystals gave a soft illumination to her greyish-blue skin and shining steel armor even though the early morning light. Her shield rested against a pole nearby and her sword across her lap. Her eyes were on the distance, to the horizon over the peaks of Mor Dhona.

“While normally I would think you mad for avoiding such a celebration in your own honor, where both adventurers and the leaders of Eorzea were staring upon you with bright, starry eyes, I daresay I can sympathize with wanting to be away from the crowd at this particular moment.”

Zolii did not look back to the man behind her. Her hands had briefly moved to her longsword’s hilt when she had heard his step, but her posture relaxed when she heard his voice. “Thancred.”

Thancred moved beside her and gestured towards the ledge. “May I?”

  
Zolii only nodded as her eyes stayed on the horizon.   


Thancred gingerly sat down next to her and allowed the silence to sit for a moment before saying, “I don’t believe, in the absolute overwhelming confluence of events in this godsforsaken mess we had found ourselves in, that I’ve quite had enough time to both thank you and apologize profusely.”

“It was nothing.” Zolii’s voice was firm but quiet.

“It was considerably something for me. Many would have just driven a sword through my chest without a moment’s consideration be completely justified in doing so.” Thancred’s smile remained only for a moment as his eyes joined Zolii’s on the horizon. “And yet, you didn’t give up hope that I could be saved, and despite the odds you did save me, and dismantled a gods damned apocalyptic war machine in the process.”

Zolli allowed a brief pause before saying, “Did you think it would be like this before?”

Thancred’s laugh was brief. “You mean did I think that the rather brave young lady who wasted no time charging a voidsent to save someone that she didn’t even know with what could generously be called a sword and a plank of wood would end up saving me from the clutches of an immortal body-stealing sorcerer?” He looked over at her with a smile. “Would you call me a liar if I say that I’m not terribly surprised?”

“All words are lies.” Zolii said, and then turned to see the confused and mildly amused look on Thancred’s face. “It’s something my sire’s people believe. The Qestir. They do not speak, because they believe that to speak is to say only falsehood.”

“You haven’t spoken much about your home.” Thancred said, his smile fading.   
  
“I have not.” Zolii looked back to the horizon. “I do miss it, sometimes. Things are simple there. At least, they are to me. I imagine Ul’dah is much less dizzying to you than it is to me, but a puzzle seems so much simpler to one who has spent their life solving it. We fight and we struggle, often against each other, but at least the Borlaaq can look to the Buduga and the Dotharl and the Oronir and think, as dangerous as they are, they're Xaela. They are all fighting, all struggling on the Steppe the same as we. This doesn’t stop us from attempting to take whatever land we can from them and from following the natural urge to spit on every Buduga we see, but they’re all still Xaela.”   
  
Zolii’s frown deepened. “Here...”   
  
_ Zolii hit the ground with a thud, her sword clattering ahead of her from where the Amalj’aa had thrown her. She growled with frustration as she pushed herself to her feet and grabbed her sword, but she stopped when she saw what was before her. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ The fire the Amalj’aa had summoned was not just a fire any longer, it was a creature and Zolii knew that it must be Ifrit. She knew it must be a Primal and for a moment she felt a pit of doubt she had never before known. _

_ Doubt that reached a crescendo of panic as Ifrit’s fire washed over her and the other captives. _

_ Doubt that faded as she turned back towards the monster, her mind her own and her resolve restored. _

_ She pointed her sword towards Ifrit and knew then and there what she had to do. _

“The Syndicate. Primals. Allag. The Empire. Ascians. Everything seems to collapse inward into a mess of retribution and misery.” Zolii looked towards Castrum Centri now, past the Tangle and the slowly moving shapes of toads that were entirely too large and too angry to be anywhere near the road they seemingly freely galavanted over. “Baelsar asked me two things: for whom do I fight and if I believed in Eorzea.

“I think...I fight for myself, because I want to fight the Empire and every other person like them, every person who perches like a vulture and salivates with the thought of subjugating those they believe inferior to them. As I said, spit on every Buduga.” Zolii tapped her sword as she spoke. “My first sword and shield I took off of an expeditionary force of soldiers. It was my first brush with the Empire and it was a hard fought victory as I was only a child. Fortunately, the conflict happened within spitting distance of the Dotharl and they never shy away from a chance to wreak a truly ludicrous amount of havoc. At the time...I picked up the weapons because I wanted a trophy, and I wanted to prove that whatever these...invaders could do, I could do better. Of course, the Empire didn’t return in force--as far as I’m aware, they haven’t sunken their diseased fangs into the Steppe as of yet, but...we did occasionally see Domans at Reunion and the stories they told...they were enough to make the blood run cold.

“Mother said it wasn’t our fight. The Steppe was our concern--gaining strength, perhaps even pushing for a victory at the next Nadaam--those were what the daughters of the Borlaaq tribe should have been concerned about. That is what we should fight for--our tribe. Our survival.”

“And your father said nothing, naturally.” Thancred broke his silence with a small smile.

“He wasn’t my father. He was a friend and lover of my mother’s. He’s a nice man--he makes my mother happy, and she never speaks around him, but he’s not my father in the way your people, or even other tribes do it. But yes, he told me no lies, but it’s not his place to decide what I do. Who I fight. What fight I make my own.” An uncharacteristic smile crossed Zolii’s lips. “You know, I think Mother knew I would be trouble ever since I refused to back down from a pair of Oronir warriors. I was beaten bloody and had to be dragged away by my sisters, but I never did back down. I was screaming at them to get back up the whole way back to camp.

“And then I left? And I came here, where people fight the Empire, where they don’t let it crouch like a tiger in the weeds because they think it is content after devouring their neighbor. I sat on merchant ships and brawled sailors and was almost thrown overboard several times. When I did reach Ul’dah, it was with nothing but a dream to stop the Empire once and for all and now...” Zolii trailed off.   
  
“...Forgive my silence, but I believe this is one hundredfold more words than you have ever spoken up until now.”    
  
Zolii let out a huff of a laugh. “I suppose it is.”   
  
“...So do you? Believe in Eorzea, that is.” Thancred reclined back on his hands. “Of course, I don’t think I could blame you all that terribly much if the answer is no.”   
  
Zolii thought of a bright-eyed young Brass Blade, so eager to tell his superior officer of the corruption he had uncovered that he did not stop to hear that the very man he was to report to was the source of it. She thought of the huge bull of a man, one of the most powerful on the continent with a reputation won in blood and sand, that was a father to his men and a gentle soul to the Sultana. She thought of a young woman with a head full of dreams, praying at a tree that her nation survive just a little longer. She thought of the sly wink of a certain adventurer’s guild’s head after saying that she does enjoy hearing about a young woman’s troubles with the menfolk every now and then and not having the heart to tell her that it’s womanfolk she mostly had those sorts of troubles with. She thought about a pair of elezen twins, one smug and one grumpy but both invested in the survival of Eorzea.   
  
She thought about Her.   
  
“She does.” Zolii said softly. “Minfilia does. You can see it in how she speaks. How she looks. She has an idealism that is almost infectious. She...makes me realize I can be part of something great...something...substantial. That perhaps Eorzea is not perfect but through our actions we can make it more. To believe in Eorzea is not to believe in nothing it’s to believe that we can be better, that change is possible.”

“So, at the very least, you believe in Minfilia.” Thancred looked towards Revenant’s Toll. “An excellent choice.”

“She’s a good woman. I admire her more than I would have as an angry child, looking for any conceivable fight and willing to ignore any and all would-be prevailing cool heads about it.” Zolii put her sword aside and stretched. “I should likely head back. I wouldn’t want them to worry.”

“Yes, I should reassure them that I haven’t been possessed again in the short time they’ve had their eyes on me.” Thancred put a hand against the crystals to stabilize himself as he got to his feet.   
  
Zolii also began to rise. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It certainly feels like it.” He started back down the slope.   
  
Zolii returned her sword to her side and placed her shield on her back as she continued along with Thancred. “And it feels like it’s my fault that so many were lost to Ifrit. It feels like my fault that Baelsar was allowed to capture those Primals, that I didn’t do more. But we do what we can, Thancred. Sometimes it’s not enough. In the end, you need to pick up your chin and keep moving, because to give up is the only true loss.”

Thancred gave Zolii a wry grin. “Truly, Warrior of Light?”

Zolii let out a snort and rolled her luminous, pink eyes. “Not you, too. I did what I had to do, I’m not some legendary hero.”   
  
_ Zolii almost crumpled as Titan’s massive fist smashed down on her shield. She was brought to a knee as her feet scraped for purchase on the precarious perch of the Navel. She tightened the grip on her sword and pushed up, deflecting the fist and bringing her sword up and into the Primal’s heart. _

_ The dragon fell. Zolii was covered in burns from equal parts frost and heat. Her armor was battered and her limbs were tired. She had been pushing herself here ever since returning to the Waking Sands, ever since she had heard of the disaster that had befallen it. She was exhausted and wounded but her head was held high and the dragon fell before her, leaving a clear path to the airship beyond. _

_ Heat and light and raw magic filled the room. The Praetorium had been destroyed and the castrum around it was in ruins, but Zolii stood before Ultima Weapon without any more scratches than usual. And when the airships began to crash around her, when the Ultima Weapon brought to bear every magitek weapon at its disposal, even when it tried to once again cast its namesake, Zolii stood tall. Even without the shield of Hydaelyn’s protection, it was the Allagan monstrosity that fell rather than her. _

“Are you so certain of that?” Thancred’s voice was teasing.   
  
“I’m certain.” Zolii moved past him and through Revenant’s Toll’s gates. “Now come. We should get back to Minfilia and the others.”


	2. Reborn, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place right after the end of 2.5, but before Heavensward starts.

The only thing Zolii could think of, the only thought in her head as she sat in the Intercessory with a hot cup of cider, was ‘I should go back for Minfilia and the others.’

“Hello, my friend! I do hope you are settled comfortably! I would never be able to hang my head high as a good host again if my famous friend found herself in even the smallest amount of discomfort.” Haurchefant said as he closed the door of the Camp Dragonhead Intercessory behind him. “Do you need another drink? Shall I fetch young Alphinaud or miss Tataru?”

“No.” Zolii said as she stared into the mug. “I just need you to watch over them while I take care of something.”

“Ah.” Haurchefant crossed his arms. “I know that tone of voice.”

“Do you?” Zolii stood up and walked to where her weapons had been placed. She looked at the cane and started to reach for it, and then stopped. Her hands lingered near the sword and shield for a moment, but she paused as she knelt down and picked up a pair of knives.

“Yes, I do. I’ve heard it before--on knights that have lost someone to their ‘holy duty’ to Ishgard.” Haurchefant moved towards her and offered his hand. “They become focused, believing the only answer to the violence committed against them is more blood to be shed.”

Zolii looked at the hand and then up at him. She stood without taking it. “And are they wrong? Something has been taken from me. Something must be taken from them.”

“A sad refrain I have heard all too often.” Haurchefant made no move to stop Zolii as she started for the door. “And I would hate for you to take the path taken by those grief-stricken knights--which, almost universally, is to Halone’s halls.”

Zolii stopped before the door, her hand reaching towards it. “And what would you have me do? Leave Ilberd and the pathetic lackeys that decided gold was more important than safeguarding the realm behind? Leave Raubahn--General Aldynn to whatever fate they have for him? Leave the Sultana unavenged? Leave all of the Scions--my  _ friends _ to their uncertain doom?”

“Perish the thought! I am saying nothing of the sort!” Haurchefaunt gestured widely with his arms. “I am merely suggesting that you are currently unable to see beyond your most recent tragedies--a perfectly understandable response, but one that I am worried would make me sadly bereft of a very good friend.”

Zolii turned her head just slightly back to him, just enough that she could see him out of the corner of her eye. “...I’m not really one to run from a fight. It doesn’t sit well to just...just have left them to fend for themselves.”

“But at the same time, the Crystal Braves were your comrades, were they not?” Haurchefaunt caught her eye--or, at least, the pink limbal ring. “To fight a comrade, even one that has betrayed you...”

“It’s not just that, I...I recruited them!” Zolii turned around and swept an arm towards the door. “I looked at Laurentius and he told me he had learned his lesson and I, the greatest fool in the land, believed him! I listened to Ilberd give big speeches about loyalty and watched as they amounted to bollocks! And those I chose well on...”

_ Zolii heard the researcher’s scream and ran forward, her hand on her sword. A part of her was afraid that it was Odin again. A part of her remembered the thrill of the fight, of his sword cleaving into her shield as spears fell like rain and was also sent into a state of extreme anticipation that perhaps it could be Odin again. _

_ What she saw, however, sent all thrill, all fear, away into a cold, drenching realization. _

_ Many thoughts went through Zolii’s head as she saw Wilred’s body. The loudest one, pushing all others back, was ‘He was just a boy’. _

_ It made no sense, of course. Zolii had been ‘just’ a girl in several potentially mortal encounters before this. However, this loss, this boy who had erred so and had decided to make something more of himself, to atone and be better than he had been, was a frozen spot in the core of her being. _

_ She did not even hear, at first, when Hoary Boulder and Coultenet had arrived. _

“It’s not fair.” Zolii snarled. “I’m...I’m supposed to be a hero, aren’t I? I give and I give for this place and...and all that is needed is one man of power’s word and all of that goodwill is taken away?! For naught?

“I slew the Moogle King! I destroyed Leviathan! I treated with Ramuh...gods, Haurchefaunt, I fought the  _ father of all bloody dragons _ . I slew an Ascian while bereft of Light, I blasted at the hugest bloody dragon I’ve ever seen with cannonfire until it stopped moving, does all of this mean nothing? Must it only be the Scions that must sacrifice for the greater good?” Zolii slammed her fist against the wall and ignored both the shock of pain that ran through her arm and the cracks that formed in the masonry. “Must we suffer with none to advocate for us? Even if we come back from this, even all that lived when we fled still live, even if all the bastards that turned on us for coin, spite, and fervor meet their just fate...”   
  
Zolii’s posture fell. Her shoulders sagged and her eyes went downcast. “Hells, what good is everything we’ve done if the Grand Companies abandon us when it stops being convenient to defend us? What use has valor if it is met with treachery and cowardice? Are the Scions to be more pawns? Another thing for those in power to discard when defending them becomes politically inconvenient?”

Haurchefaunt took a few long strides forward and put a hand on Zolii’s shoulder. “Forgive me if this seems a bit distant comfort. You don’t strike me one particularly for hugs, and I’m not so sturdy as the wall.”

Zolii let out a short laugh through burgeoning tears of grief, anger, and exhaustion.

“Perhaps the Grand Companies do not appreciate as fast a friend as you, but I do--and more than that, House Fortemps does. If all the world falls to ruin, if Calamity after Calamity befalls us--which I find incredibly unlikely given that my dear friend is a professional ender of Calamities--then I shall never forget the kindness you have done--to myself and to my nation. Any who would not repay your valor in kind is a fool.” Haurchefaunt smiled at Zolii. “You went to parts unknown to defeat the Saint of the Heretics, herself! But more than that...when all of Ishgard believed Francel to be a heretic--when he himself was contemplating submitting himself to the Witchdrop to prove his innocence--you did not hesitate to help. That is what makes you the Warrior of Light, Zolii of the Borlaaq. Not the god-slaying, not the honors piled upon you by fickle lords, no. ‘Tis that spark that sees the innocent and the helpless in danger and says, ‘I shall not stand for this, not on this day nor on any other’.”

Zolii pulled away and walked to where her weapons were resting. She knelt down and put her daggers back where she had left them and instead picked up her sword and her shield. “Have I told you why I decided to become a paladin?”

“You have not! And I should love to hear it.”

“At first, it was just because I already knew the sword and shield. The Gladiator’s Guild could teach me no more. I needed a better teacher to become more proficient. That was all it was supposed to be, but...there’s something about protecting someone. There’s something about rushing between a rampaging fiend and its intended target and not losing your ground, standing strong no matter what.” Zolii ran a hand along her shield. “To the last, even without some god’s blessing, even when the world is arrayed against you.

“I’ve learned how to draw energy from the land to seal the wounds of others. I’ve learned how to perfectly place a knife and I hardly ever do the mudras incorrectly, anymore.” Zolii put her sword and shield back down and gave them a fond look. “But to endure, I think, is my favorite skill so far.”

“From my perspective you seem extremely adept at it.” Haurchefaunt gestured for the door. “Now, if you’ve given up on going on some sort of revenge-driven spree of violence, perhaps you could accompany me on a rather important morale mission. Young master Alphinaud could use some cheering up, and I’m certain an appearance from the vaunted Warrior of Light herself would do wonders for that.”

“I’ll see what I can do. There’s nothing terribly heroic I can do at the moment, but I suppose we could all use some cheering up.”

Haurchefaunt smiled at her and turned to leave. As the door closed, Zolii reached into her pack and removed what had once been a crystal of light and was now a greyed-out husk.

Iceheart had told her to Hear, Feel, and Think. She had told her that the Dragonsong War had a cause beyond the dogma of Ishgard--that perhaps Ishgard and not the Dravanians and heretics were the ultimate villain.

And yet, many people had died in both her ambushes and also the direct assault on Ishgard. Many were certainly soldiers, but were they all? Did such a thing matter in a war that had gone so long, with so much death on both sides? In a war of mutual massacre that had lasted millenia, did who started the fight even matter, anymore?

Zolii put a hand to her head. She had a headache that had nothing to do with seeing the life of another. She finished off her cider and started for the door. As she went, however, she could not shake the feeling that perhaps this war that she had already started to entangle herself in would only get more complicated as her stay in Ishgard continued.


End file.
